Oh, I just saw that this became a haiku sequence with Jim Young @oyoguhito.bsky.social and there are so many good ones from each of them!

in my lifetime
earthshine has grown brighter
-- the cat's still hungry

#senryu #haiku

细草微风岸
危樯独夜舟
星垂平野阔
月涌大江流

Fine grass on the wind-brushed bank;
a lone night boat beneath its towering mast.
Stars hang low over the widening plain;
the moon wells up with the great river’s flow.

From Written While Travelling at Night, by Du Fu, 8th century Tang dynasty poet.

Centre of its world, child –
Moon reaching up,
Jupiter reaching down.

tasting the night air
tender curve of a snail’s horn
this little white moon

Above the mountains,
no bird in flight.
Old man in a bamboo hat
fishing the river of snow.

After Liu Zongyuan, Tang dynasty poet

千山鸟飞绝
万径人踪灭
孤舟蓑笠翁
独钓寒江雪

Stars.
A grandfather's smile.
The last frost.

the
beast
feeds.

feed
produces
feed.

beast
produces
beast.

fear
produces
fear.

feeds

anger
produces
anger

feeds
the
beast.

right
produces
right.

politics
produces
politics.

feeds
the.

monster
produces
monster.

the
beast

feeds
the
beast
feeds
the
beast
feeds
the
beast
feeds
the
beast

Iron Bodhisattva —
she touches a finger to my tongue
and teaches it starlight.

Sitting in the sun room, where I can keep an eye on lemon balm, pumpkin, green bean seedlings & the stars.

Drinking a cup of Yunnan black tea, listening to just about anything from Jordi Savall and reading a book, Civil War: The Wars of The Three Kingdoms 1638-1660, by Trevor Royle.

Sunday night 🙏

Raw work, no way to avoid it;
the joyful roar and mess of being alive.
In short bursts of back pain
and childish glee, I wield a chainsaw
the wild way a child wields a Bible.
It's a prayer for self-sufficiency
and a witness to the brutal efficiency
of man when he gets to work,
the woodshed in April.

Imagine that you
can fold into a moment,
breathe silence, hold time.

#haiku

Poetry - February/March 2026 John North. Writer. b.1990. Based in Cumbria

All my #bluesky #poetry February/March 2026

johnnorthwrites.blogspot.com/2026/04/poet...

Suddenly, curlew song rising:
strength for today
and bright hope for tomorrow.

Still
your lip
on mine.

*

Black
leather
jacket.

*

Yellow silk.
Softer:
you.

*

Dark
wood.
Skin.

*

Strands
of hair
on white pillow.

*

Air —
open window.
Night breathes.

Christ's loneliness
travelled with him,
healed wounds, washed feet.

Moonlight has its own gravity,
holding stone, branch, your hand
against the sky
becoming moonlight.

So you leave yourself
and become the space
in between us.

A shimmer,
a breath,
an instinct,

a thought — in every
space, an angel
in the corner of my eye.

Someone could speak
you back into existence,
but I cannot.

This self is silence
where words
do not —

you,
me,
God,

the moon,
a wedding
ring.

Full moon. White tea pours
through the window
in climbing blossom —
the old pane
with its own currents.
Music somewhere.

Dawn. Plum blossom:
white silk in the wind —
the last snow
and spring.

After Wang Zhenbai, 9th Century Tang dynasty poet

靓妆才罢粉痕新，
迨晓风回散玉尘。
若遣有情应怅望，
已兼残雪又兼春。

Plum and cherry
spring blossom –
a wedding day.

[[Photos from the herb garden]]

This morning, I woke feeling like I was seeing the world through eyes that were somehow more... German.

Stanjek was one of the great voices of German football television, later immortalised by the 1982 World Cup match between West Germany and Austria, when he fell into a silent protest at the pre-arranged game that shamefully unfolded on the pitch.

Last night I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Eberhard Stanjek's German commentary on Cruyff's Ajax v Bayern Munich in the European Cup quarter final first leg from 7 March 1973.

Before my bed, the bright moonlight—
I take it for frost upon the ground.
I lift my head and watch the moon;
I lower it and think of home.

床前明月光
疑是地上霜
舉頭望明月
低頭思故鄉

Li Bai, Tang Dynasty poet (8th Century)

these early spring stars
shining like blackthorn petals
before they blink out

time lingers
in the shifting mountains
plum rains
#haiku

forgiveness
in the stillness of dawn
spring rain
#haiku

The price of petrol
compared to the price of blood.
Objects in the rear view.

I literally forgot about this amazing little correspondence. Seven years ago! I'm not sure what the fact I forgot about it says about me, but here it is so I remember in future!